Features
Festivals and human stomachs
Festivals are supposed to be an important part of our lives such that once in every year, every single soul in the capital is supposed to go back to his or her people to celebrate, drink fresh palm wine and crack grass- cutter bones.
But how many people think of going back to celebrate the festivals of their origin?
Perhaps if we had a Secretary for Festival Affairs with plenary powers to ensure that once in a year, everyone goes back to his grandfather’s village to celebrate the festival of his people, the importance of festivals might be more appreciated.
It is so sad to note that because of financial, mourning and ‘brokages,’ many don’t dare go back to their villages during annual leaves and festivals.
Festivals as we know are inseparable from our culture and as such, indissolubly linked with our roots.
Anyone who is therefore a hopeless ignoramus as far as the festivals of his people are concerned is in a cultural wilderness, lost and cannot be found. A search-party would be on a wild goose chase unless he himself retraces his steps to his origin to learn the ways of old.
Since most people have taken the capital of Sikaman as their hometown, many Anlos for instance do not know about Hogbetsotso, the northerners, bom and bred in Accra have never witnessed the Dambai festival; Oguaas forget the Fetu and the Ada’s, the Asafotufiam. Instead, every- one becomes well-acquainted with Homowo.
The very first time I joined the Gas to celebrate their Homowo festival was way back in 1973, I was a little kid. As I had many Ga friends, I was in high spirits. I took my time and consumed an unholy quantity of kpokpoi, the cherished traditional meal for the festival. In fact, I enjoyed it so much, but I was uninformed about the dosage.
It was getting close to midnight when I realised that kpokpoi was not only a very delicious festive dish, but also a rather powerful traditional purgative.
It took me some four hours to get through since it was a wake-keeping of commuting from my bedroom to the lavatory to cope with the frequency of my free bowels. The following year I was more cautious and took the right dosage.
Quite ironically, I have celebrated, or should I say, witnessed more Homowo festivals than the Yam Festival of my people. But that does not make me ignorant. We used to look forward to it every year and the most interesting aspect was the contests organised to select the most attractive, largest or weightiest “new” yam. It was a sort of beauty pageant where yams were the exuberant contestants.
Today, when my people are celebrating the Yam Festival back home, and I’m unable to go, I also celebrate mine quietly in the capital with my mother, brothers and sisters. We eat otor, yam slices, yam fufu and chicken soup, with yam-balls as dessert. We don’t have drumming and dancing, though.
Most festivals are celebrated following the harvest season in farming and fishing communities. The festivals are celebrated to praise and acknowledge the blessings of the gods for the bountiful harvests bestowed upon us mortals. With poor harvests therefore, the celebrations become lukewarm. Man must chop!
Traditional African societies have superstitious beliefs associated with folkways, norms and general manner of life. The celebration of festivals is therefore not entirely free from certain taboos and superstitions.
The reader would please, allow for a little digression. A child who grows in the capital of Sikaman knows nothing about the taboos associated with his origin. He, for instance, refuses to believe that some clans do not kill snakes just because it is their belief that a snake had something to do with the perpetration of their clan. Others do not eat corn because they believe one of their great chiefs was poisoned through a meal prepared from corn etc.
Other taboos are observed because the gods say they must be. There is a river god in Sikaman which forbids anyone going to the river at night with lantern.
A white man on tour who said he never believed that ‘superstitious nonsense’ since he was a devout Christian who had been fully baptised and receives communion regularly, defied the villagers and took a lantern to the riverside one night.
Of course, what he met at the place, I can’t quite describe. Fact is he himself could not even describe it because he had to do a fast sprint to escape the monster that pursued him. Since then, our Kwasi Broni friend has learnt to respect some of our dos and don’ts. I know he had quite a story to tell his countrymen when he went back, unless he wanted to stay here forever to do thorough research into African taboos.
It is a taboo to be seen eating newly harvested yam before the fetish priest performs the necessary rites that usher in the celebration of the Yam Festival at my area. This is to ensure that the gods taste of it before dwellers of the land take their turn.
I had occasion to talk to Togbi Teiku (V), Dufia of Matse Dzeve (not my hometown), known in private life as Mr Joshua Addo. The Yam Festival celebrated at his area, he says, are preceded by certain rites, which he cannot ignore irrespective of his Christian background and intellectual attainments.
He does not take alcohol, not even occasionally. But when it comes to performing the rites associated with the stool and the land during festivals, he must forget about his healthy conscious habits and let the palm wine descend his throat, enroute to the stomach.
Indeed, festivals have a meaning to our lives. However, receptive we might be to the impact of western culture, we must not forget that we have our own culture which we must enrich through the endeavour of going back from where we’ve run.
What would be the meaning of our lives as a clan, tribe or people when we cannot find time once every year to revel in festivity for the enjoyment of it, to meet old friends, and make more acquaintances, get used to our folklores and customs, and above all rejoice the blessings of good harvests and the like?
Festivals are also useful to non-resident citizens of every locality. It affords the city dweller the opportunity to ascertain the true condition prevailling in their rural communities so that when the Town Development Committee comes out to say that non-resident females must contribute GH¢1,000 and their male counterparts GH¢1,500 for development projects, they cannot grumble.
You certainly wouldn’t complain because after a heavy festive meal you will sooner or later need the services of a KVIP since you cannot carry the stuff in your stomach back to a city water-closet.
And when you realise that there is no KVIP around, except for a dangerous-looking pit-laterine that had been constructed half a century ago, you’ll understand that if you do not contribute the specified amount you may not be able to retire to the village to spend your pension days, when it is due.
This article was first published
on Saturday August 25, 1990
Someone said, if we cannot plan for an occurrence as predictable as the annual rains, then what else can we plan for as a country? God has caused nature to schedule rains for specific periods or months within the year and everybody knows this.
One need not be a meteorologist to tell that the rains will fall in May and June every year. Any serious person who has something that the rains can affect, would therefore plan taking into consideration the likelihood of the rains falling. Therefore to find out that a whole country like ours, had not planned effectively, is mind-boggling.
The report by the World Bank that fiscal policy measures by the Finance Minister has led to no money being released for the World Bank sponsored project to deal with the perennial flooding situation in Accra, is so disappointing. The fact that this contributed immensely to the flooding in Accra, is an understatement.
There have been fires in our markets, but who is checking the wiring on a regular basis as a system designed to prevent future outbreaks? The occurrence of fires in our markets is something that must engage the attention of government and all the stakeholders.
The causes may be several but if a system of proper fire prevention is in place, l believe the number of occurrences will be drastically minimised. Electrical wiring for instance has been found to be one of the causes of market fires. Fire as we know from the experts, can only happen if these three things are present, namely source of heat, combustible material and oxygen i.e. air.
lf any one of these is missing, there will be no fire. It has been realised that heat generated in wires have caused fires in the past and therefore, an effective system must be put in place to ensure that, only certain approved qualified electricians, can execute wiring jobs in our markets instead of the current situation where different electricians execute wiring with different types of wires, of different quality, dimensions etc.
Preventive inspections schedule must also be put in place to endure compliance with uniform wiring standard, as well as adherence to expiry dates of the wires.
What baffles me is why some MCEs and DCEs are still at post while things are deteriorating in their areas of influence and yet the President or the Minister for Local Government seems to be unwilling to relieve them of their positions. People have lost their lives, official count is about 37 lives, properties worth millions of Ghana Cedis have been destroyed, people’s livelihoods have been destroyed and they are at ground zero.
We can go on and on and on about the devastating impact of the recent floods. Suddenly, we have these local authority heads, all over the place, demolishing buildings after the flood. Is this not insanity? Where were the LUPSA Engineers who issue permits at the local assemblies?
If they were doing their jobs, for which they are paid every month, they would have seen people constructing structures at Ramseyer sites. They would have seen people putting up structures very close to the bank of streams or rivers and could have enforced the regulations, which could have averted the level of impact on lives and property.
One particular issue which drives me crazy is the Kasoa to Mallam Junction stretch of the N1. The traffic jam between West Hills Mall and Weija Junction is due to the flooding of a place called Ataala. Anytime it rains heavily, the area floods and vehicles moving from West Hills towards Weija cannot use their normal lane but are forced to switch to the inner lane of those headed towards West Hills Mall from Weija and it did not start yesterday. I am so, so disappointed. God Bless.
By Laud Kissi-Mensah
The romance between man and wife ends where chopmoney palaver begins. When the man is leaving for work and the woman’s face looks like a rainy day, anyone can guess that the chop money delivered is quite below sea level.
But when she smiles too broadly for comfort and waves her husband goodbye zealously, it means the man did not only perform well under the cover of darkness but also dished out the correct amount of chop money.
The typical matrimonial home is a complex one. Many factors contribute to fuelling or preventing occasional civil wars. When Pyram became a household word, some husbands and wives put heads together, went borrowing, sold their belongings and invested in the sham scheme.
When Pyram collapsed, many marriages got shattered beyond repair. Wives blamed their husbands and husbands complained about nagging wives. In a few instances, punches were traded. Crises could not be managed as debts soared and creditors wanted back their money.
Chop money grew slim. Only Mr Kofi Annan could negotiate a truce between warring partners as daggers were drawn. The Pyram palaver brought more woes to Sikaman than the joy it was supposed to bring.
Many women have died from distress and frustration. All their resources which were joyfully invested in the scheme cannot be retrieved.
“Today, the Government says it cannot use taxpayers’ money to pay those who lost various sums of money to the two money-doubling banks Pyram and Resource 5000 Ltd. “We told you not to take your monies there and you didn’t listen. Paddle your own canoe, or canoe your own paddle,’ says the Sikaman government.”
The chop money palaver in Sikaman is getting heady. People are citing chop money problems for their offences. The newspapers report of a man who allegedly injected his three-week-old daughter with DDT because the wife was disturbing him with chop money matters too much. He is being tried by the courts.
Some women claim they abandoned their babies because their fathers refused to offer chop money. So when they dump the babies in the latrine, they are relieved of any burden. Looks like maternal instincts are withering out of mothers. These are indeed times when mothers no longer love their children because of chop money palaver.
Stomach capacity
The amount of chop money a father gives out each day, week or month depends on the family size and the stomach capacity of each family stomach. Members of some families are very light eaters and little is spent on food. But for other families where some members have ‘double chambers’ the food budget requires additional funds.
Indeed, in some families, members have natural appetite for food whether or not they take peters (bitters). And when food isn’t enough, there can be an uprising against constituted domestic authority, the family equivalent of the Guinea Bissau rebellion.
Yes, where one person can eat four balls of kenkey and cry for more, but is given only two balls, he can get angry and start breaking louvres.
The chop money size also depends on the level of nutrition typical of each family. Some families believe in the third world theory that QUANTITY is better than QUALITY. The bigger the banku and the smaller the fish, all the better for Ghanaians. Yes quantity, not quality. Such families stock maize in bags.
Those who believe in quality spend much on vegetables, meat and fish and therefore spend more, but it is worth it because they are healthier and stronger. They also spend on fruits and are averse to the “quantity supremacy” theory.
The problem with chop money issues is that when the correct amount is not flowing, the women think the men are misapplying their salaries in overt pleasures. They accuse their husbands of drinking too much bitters and burukutu, and they can prove the accusation using a formula. They only have to smell the breath of their partners. The fuse can be great!
One woman told her neighbour when her husband comes back home drunk, he behaves like a walking distillery, swaggering like a drunken sailor. You’d think he has been baptised with raw akpeteshie or immersed in the stuff. Her only compliment was that in spite of his alcoholic status, the guy could perform. That is Viagra or no Viagra.
Women also accuse men of chasing other women in the same manner as a he-goat does. Half their salaries cannot be accounted for as a result, they claim. So when the chop money isn’t at least at sea-level, they must protest either noisily or stage a sit-down strike.
Domestic sit-down strikes by wives can cause problems. When a man takes full quarter and is expecting a wonderful dinner with soup and its accompaniments and comes to meet an empty table and a brooding woman, he can go berserk. The clash can be worse than a plane crash.
As it were, it all requires patience to make a marriage last, chop money or not.
This article was first published on Saturday, July 11, 1998
